


Intrude and Exclude (this impossible year)

by TheMaddestOfAll



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Jughead is the best boyfriend, Light Angst, Nobody Dies, light talk about surgery/medical things, really light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:20:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMaddestOfAll/pseuds/TheMaddestOfAll
Summary: While at an event with Veronica, Betty gets a call that stops her dead in her tracks.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Kudos: 66





	Intrude and Exclude (this impossible year)

**Author's Note:**

> A small drabble that began when I was at the hospital past midnight one night. Its not super angsty like I would have liked, but I'm still pretty proud. Hope you enjoy!  
> (Points to you if you know where the title came from)

Running in heels isn’t the easiest feat. Even when you’ve been attending fancy parties and parading around like a porcelain doll for most of your life. Mingling in a room full of your best friends socialites is one thing, but full-out sprinting down the cold alleyways of New York takes quite a lot of willpower. The streets of the Tribeca area are usually filled with shoppers or sightseers trying to capture the beauty of lower Manhattan, but at 15 minutes past midnight, the air is still and eerily quiet, only interrupted by the sound of her shoes clacking against the pavement. The air is slightly chilly for May, causing goosebumps to scatter across Betty’s arms. The cold seems to find its way straight to her bones. After an eternity of running crammed into what feels like a blurry dream, a large 5 story building surrounded by several smaller ones finally comes into view. A lit sign near the top reads ‘New York Presbyterian Urgent Care Unit’. She slows her pace to a walk and tries to calm her breathing, but her head is spinning with the thoughts of worst case scenarios. Her once stylishly flowing curls now sit at the top of her head, tied into a loose clump of matted hair. She stuffs her hands deep into her jacket pockets to keep them from curling in on themselves. Betty had gotten the call, and rushed out of Veronica’s apartment in a blur, only grabbing her coat from the entrance closet. Archie’s phone was probably still sitting under wherever it ended up.

_Veronica had been waltzing from guest to guest thanking them for coming to the pre launch party for her newest handbag collection, while Betty politely nodded and smiled without making too much conversation. About halfway through the night, a waiter collided with Cheryl Blossom, sending thousand dollar caviar cascading across her intricate dress. Archie had come rushing over, with the head caterer on his tail. They disappeared is a storm of hushed whispers, leaving Betty to chat with a ken doll in a tuxedo. Her glass of wine was getting dangerously low, and the silicon socialite in front of her was getting increasingly boring. She had lost her phone on one of the many side tables, and was itching make an excuse to leave, when Veronica came full speed running through the penthouse. She shoved the phone into Betty’s hand, and latched onto Archie’s arm. The operator on the line spoke in a calm soothing voice, but alarm bells were already blaring in Betty’s head._

_“Am I speaking to Miss Cooper?”_

_“Y-yea i’m Betty Cooper.”_

_“Miss Cooper, you’re going to need to come to the Presbyterian Hospital ICU, a patient was recently admitted, and you’re the emergency contact.”_

_“Okay, wait..i’m confused. Who’s the patient?”_

_“Forsythe Jones. Do you know him?”_

_Her eyes went wide and the air in her lungs vanished. Betty’s legs went numb, and Veronica had to grab her arm to keep her upright. The operator kept talking, giving directions to the ward and the entrance information._

_“Use the North entrance at the ICU...You’ll need identification...room 213...3rd floor recovery.”_

_The phone slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor probably cracking the screen into small pieces, but she couldn’t care less. Her body turned on auto pilot and before she knew what was happening, she was in front of the hospital, eyes wide and hands shaking_.

That brings us to the present. It’s closer to 12:30 now, and even though she knows she should, Betty doesn’t want to go inside. A million thoughts are swirling around in her head, colliding into each other battling for dominance at the front of her brain. She doesn’t want to think of the worst case scenario, but patients don’t get admitted to the ICU for simple cuts and bruises. Jughead was supposed to be in their apartment, finishing his article for the Times, while Betty wined and dined with Veronica. What had happened in the 3 hours that she was gone? The sliding doors open and a woman Betty’s age walks down the steps. Betty blinks a few times, eyes still trained on the sign a few stories up. 

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

“Oh, um...” She shakes her head and focuses on the woman in front of her. The small rectangular name tag reads Tatiana RN. 

“I’m sorry,” She sighs, rubbing her hands down her face. “I’m here to see a patient, I just haven’t been able to go inside.”

“Why don’t we go in together? I can get you checked in, and tell you what room they’re in.” 

“The operator I talked to said something about the 3rd floor, room 213, but i’m not sure. I couldn’t really hear her.”

“Alright, let's go inside, and I can tell you where to go, okay?”

Despite not having cried this entire time, Betty sniffles and her eyes glass over. “ Yea, okay. Thanks.”

The nurse steers her up the stairs, into the doors, and up to a large granite wrap around counter top. She steps behind it, and gathers a set of papers for Betty. 

“Please sign these visitor forms, and i’ll need to see your ID. Who exactly are you visiting?”

“Jughead Jones.” The words come out clipped and forced, leaving little air in her lungs. The woman gives her a strange look before Betty realizes that the operator had used his full name. “I’m sorry, I meant Forsythe. Forsythe Jones.” 

The nurse nods and places a few sheets of paper on the counter. “Please sign these while I look up the information.” Betty signs the dotted lines and fishes around her coat pockets for the ID that she stuffed there before she left for Veronica’s. The nurse types some lines into her computer before giving Betty a reassuring smile. “You were right, we have a Forsythe Jones on the 3rd floor, room 213. There are no notes in his file, but Doctor Hoffman should know more. You can take those elevators right over there.” She points a manicured finger to a row of elevators labeled “Guest Access” and smiles warmly. Betty simply nods and takes a few steps towards the leftmost elevator. For a moment, she’s not sure if she can make it, her legs are numb and her brain is screaming, telling her to run. She steps in and presses the 3rd floor button, completely blind to anything that might be on the other side. Betty leans against the railing, gripping for dear life, and closes her eyes. She’s beyond tired, and probably running on fumes, but something tells her that sleep won’t be in her agenda for a while. Her breathing stutters but tears have yet to come. She knows she should cry, because anyone would cry if their long-term boyfriend were in the ICU, but she simply doesn’t have the energy to. 

The doors slide apart and the antiseptic smell hits her full force. She pries her eyes apart and takes a shaky step forward. The floor opens up to 3 reception desks some distance from the elevator, with a small hallway for vending machines to the left. On the right side of the desks is a long hallway which wraps around to the rest of the floor. Betty’s fingers find their way to the textured pattern along the edges of the wall, lightly dragging behind her. She’s never had any strong opinions about hospitals. She’s only ever been in them for late night emergency room trips or sick call appointments, but right now, she decides that she hates them and never wants to step foot into one ever again. At the end of the hallway, another desk sits, blocking off access to the right most rooms. A rather tall tan skinned male is sitting at the table, filling out stacks of paperwork. 

“Excuse me, sir,” Her voice is high and pinched, almost like her vocal chords don’t want to formulate the right words. She clears her throat and tries again. “I’m looking for recovery room 213.” She zeros in on the ID tag hanging from the doctor’s coat pocket. There’s a picture of him with his name bold printed underneath. Dr. Hoffman M.D. 

“Room 213...” His voice carries down the silent hallway, but it’s not threatening, it’s almost comforting. He flips through a divided book on the corner of the table until he reaches about halfway through. “Alright, Room 213, Forsythe Jones. I’m assuming you’re Elizabeth?”

“Please, call me Betty.”

“Well, Betty if you would, follow me down this way and we can discuss our plan moving forward.” Betty simply nods her head and folds her hands together. Doctor Hoffman leads her down the blocked off hallway while toying with the file in his hands. “ So, Betty. You are the emergency contact on Forsythe’s file-“

“It’s Jughead.”

“Pardon?”

She really didn’t mean to blurt that out. Jughead hates to be called by that name, even if he has to correct people on a daily basis. 

“I’m so sorry Doctor, I didn’t mean to interrupt you like that. It’s just, his nickname is Jughead. He’s gone by that for years.”

Hoffman regards her with a slight nod but keeps his focus on the linoleum ahead. “At the moment, Jughead is in his recovery room a few hallways down. He was brought in at around 10:30 and was rushed for minor surgery.” 

“Minor surgery? What is that supposed to mean?” Betty can’t help the anger that spews into her voice as her eyes dart to the tall man slightly ahead of her. Blood rushes to her head and black spots cloud the hallway. 

“Miss Cooper, I know this is difficult but please bear with me.” 

Her fists clench and threaten to break the healed tissue. In High School, the slight pressure of her nails sinking into her palms was the only thing keeping her from having a meltdown. No one had ever noticed she was doing it. Well, until Jughead did. 

She uncurls her hands. 

After a few deep breaths, her head stops spinning but her stomach refuses to loosen its clench on itself. “Jughead’s room is the last one on the right side of this hall. I will warn you Betty, it might be hard for you to see him in this condition.” 

How had this happened? Betty left the apartment with Veronica’s driver around 8 o’clock. Jughead was supposed to have a night in with his article and Chinese takeout. Where the hell had he gone?

“What happened to him? He was in our apartment..why is he here?” 

“There was an accident and an ambulance was called to the scene. They brought him into the emergency room and we identified him by his ID. He had severe road burn on his arm and abdomen plus a broken leg. The surgery was to repair his leg and remove the fragments. The police report says...” Doctor Hoffman trails off as he fumbles through the file in his hands. “The police reported a crash on 3rd and Westbrook, between a pickup truck and a motorcycle.” 

3rd and Westbrook. Only 4 blocks from their apartment. Right around the corner from their favorite diner. 

Betty nods her head even through the words basically fly past her. “We repaired his leg and put it in a cast after the swelling went down. His burns didn’t go down into the muscle, so we’re safe on that front as well.” 

The news sounds good, things look like they’ll be okay. But something about the tone in the doctor's voice makes it all seem too good to be true. She’s heard that tone before.

“Wh-when will wake up?” The little bit of food she had at Veronica’s threatens to spill out into the floor, but Betty manages to keep it down. Her fingers find the silver bracelet tightly secured to her wrist. It matches the sparkly navy dress that hugs her curves. The skirt hangs on the ground, having been drug through the streets of New York. There’s a rip going up her calf and the edges are frayed, covered in dirt. She can tell that the glittery makeup around her eyes is smudged and probably running down her face. She looks like a total mess, she knows it. 

Doctor Hoffman steps up to the last door of the hall and takes a visible deep breath. “He’s on some pretty heavy anesthetics. The surgery was done a little over an hour ago, but he could be out for a few more hours. When he’s awake, we need to do some tests.” 

He swipes his ID tag, clicks the handle open, and steps inside. It’s a large room with big windows covering the far side and machines crowding one of the others, beeping in the silence. The room is darkly lit, the only light coming from a small lamp on a bedside table, yellow rays covering the walls. Her eyes glance to a small couch and a few chairs when she hears Doctor Hoffman clear his throat. Betty drags her eyes to the stiff bed against the wall and it takes all of her strength not to fall to her knees. She can’t see much from the doorway, but she would know those raven locks anywhere. He’s smaller, she notices. His body barely fills the bed and his skin is a mix of purple and red. 

Betty takes a small step forward as her eyes trail up his body. His leg is slightly propped up on pillows, covered in a tight white cast, the end of the thick hospital gown just reaching his calf. She can feel Doctor Hoffman shift uncomfortably, waiting for her to do something.

It’s now or never. 

A few steps later and she’s just an arm's distance from the edge of the bed. Her throat feels like it’s closing in on itself, like she’s taking all the air in the room but not getting enough. “J-Jug?” She can see the slope of his nose and the curve of his shoulder pushed into the stiff blanket and then...the dam breaks. Tears push themselves out of her eyelids and run down to her chin, pooling until they slide off into the floor. Dr. Hoffman places a hand onto her shoulder and says something that her ears can’t pick up, then retreats towards the door. When she hears the door handle click into place, she fumbles around for the chair closest to her. It’s softer than she expected, the comfort needed for grieving families. She guesses that what most people would consider her right now.

Betty’s hand reaches out and grabs Jughead’s, squeezing just a little too tightly. “Hey, Jug.” It’s only then that she notices just how bad she’s trembling. The silver on her wrist rattles slightly against the plastic frame, and her foot is lightly bouncing. “We’re really in trouble this time, huh?” The sobs that wreck through her tiny frame take everything out of her. Her head hangs down and for a moment all she can concentrate on is the rhythmic falling of droplets into her lap, watching the way they hold onto the tip of her nose until eventually they take the fateful plunge and soak into the dark fabric covering her knees. When she finally looks back up again, she reaches her hand up to Jughead’s face, her thumb trembling all the way until it connects with the skin right below his eye. It begins a small rubbing pattern, like the movement can erase all the pain from that night. 

“You’re really dumb, you know that.” The chuckle that escapes her lips startles Betty, so out-of-place for the situation. She glances to the side table where a digital clock and a few possession lay. His beanie dangles slightly off the edge, looking somewhat ratty. Of course he was wearing his beanie. “You’re scaring the crap out of me and when we’re out of here, you’re gonna get it.” Her hand comes back down to his and she threads her fingers with his. Her breathing catches, and even though she’s still crying, the tears have subsided in the slightest. “I love you..so much. You need to know that. You have to be here with me..I don’t know what to do without you.” The last words come out with a small yawn, making her aware of her heavy eyelids. Betty’s free arm slides across the plastic railing as her head comes down to lean on it. Betty nods off with the reassuring feeling of his calloused hand in hers.

Hours pass. Hours spent bent in an uncomfortable position leaning against the hospital bed. Her exhaustion finally catching up to her, lulling her into a sleep that constantly feels moments away from panic. The first things she registers is that she’s not in her bed. She’s not submerged in blankets and tangled around her moody, not a morning person, boyfriend. 

Jughead. 

Almost immediately after that thought, Betty feels what must’ve woken her up, a mix of shifting and light tugging on her hand. Her head snaps up so fast that her eyes blur over and she has to wait for her vision to clear in order to see anything in front of her. Her eyes eventually zero in on the scene in front of her. The light skinning through the curtains is a light blue and purple, barley illuminating the room. The clock reads 6:40, only 6 hours since she’d arrived at the hospital. Jughead’s still in relatively the same position that he was when she went to sleep, but Betty notices a shift. He’s more tense and..aware than he was just a few hours ago. Another tug on her hand, and she goes into panic mode. “Jug? Jug, are you awake?” Her hand reaches out to his arm and gives it a slight shake, hoping that he’ll wake up and say that it was all a bad dream. 

A few minutes pass without any movement and Betty’s about to give up and try to get another hour or so of sleep, but just as she lowers her head, Jughead tugs her hand harder. Betty sits up further on the chair and wraps her free arm around his torso, the hand connected to his squeezes tighter as she tries to wake him up. “Jug? Come on, wake up. Jug..you can do it, come on.” His body stills and for a moment Betty thinks that she did something wrong, that maybe she ruined her chance at getting him to come back to her. Tears fill her eyes her again and her shoulders slump forward. For the seconds that pass, Betty is sure that she doesn’t breathe, letting her brain focus on finding a solution. Her eyes rise back up to Jughead’s and study the slopes of his face. 

When his eyelids flutter and almost open, Betty has to suppress the excited bubble that takes place in her throat. “Jug! Oh my god, Jug!” The tears that push out of her eyes are pure happiness as she tries to calm herself down. His eyes open to a squint and a groan pushes out of his lips, sounding hoarse and strained but it’s the best thing Betty’s ever heard. Her hands fly to his face as he continues shifting against the pillows. “Ugh..Betts? What the hell..” 

“Oh my god Jug! Okay okay, stop moving, take it easy.” Betty takes a moment to still her hands and just take him in, and for the first time since Veronica’s party, she smiles. A genuine smile that reaches up to the ears and wrinkles her cheeks. Jughead leans back into the pillows, blinks a few times, and then focuses back on her with a sigh, “Hey Betts.” 

“Hey? That’s what you have to say to me right now?” She laughs despite herself but the tears are still flowing freely, splashing onto her arms and dress. 

Jughead’s focus drifts to Betty’s hand as he grabs it and links their fingers together. Without looking back up, Jughead whispers, “ I’m really sorry Betts.” Betty’s thumb begins rubbing slow paths across his knuckles until his eyes lock onto hers again, filled with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“What happened, Jug? How did you end up here?” Her eyes search his face, taking note of the planes and curves embedded in her mind, now covered in bruised and swollen skin. Her breath hitches when she glances at where his left shoulder is pressed into the pillows. There’s a tight bandage wrapped down his arm, around where his serpent tattoo is inked. 

“I finished most of my article and I was waiting for you to get home so we could order takeout. I knew you’d be tired after Veronica’s, so I decided to go get some of your ice cream from the diner.” A small smile creeps onto his face as if it’s the simplest answer in the world. They had discovered the small diner shortly after moving into their apartment. It didn’t hold a candle to Pop’s, but their ice cream was the best that Betty had ever tasted. Their first trip there, Betty had ordered a strawberry cone that Jughead ended up smearing onto her nose. The owners, an older woman and her two daughters, had gushed over the pair making Jughead turn a few shades of red. They’d been going back ever since, Betty always carrying a basket full of whatever she’d baked that week. As much as she’d like to be mad, Betty knows that her resolve disappeared the moment he had woken up. 

“Jug, you are the craziest person I know.”

“Crazy for you maybe.” In an instant, she’s lunging forward and pressing her lips to his, only pulling away when she can feel her tears dropping on his cheeks. 

“God, I love you so much.” She sighs out, relieved that her heart has resumed a normal beat and that her lungs can fill with air again. 

“I love you too, Betts.” His eyes have a twinkly shine in them, and she can’t tell if it’s from just waking up, seeing her, or the IV dripping morphine into his arm, but she couldn’t be happier. A light knock at the door has Betty jumping slightly before righting herself back in the arm chair she’d slept in. The door clicks open, and Doctor Hoffman pokes his head through before smiling at the sight. 

“Well, I’m glad to see you awake Jughead, how are you feeling?” 

“My head is throbbing a bit but I pretty much just feel sore all over.” Doctor Hoffman stops by one of the machines on his way to the bed and punches a few things onto it before regarding the couple. 

“We’ll probably get you down to a secondary room later today, but everything looks pretty good here. I’m sure between the morphine and Miss Cooper here, you’re all set.” The Doctor winks before turning on his heel and heading for the door. “Oh, and once visiting hours start, there is a couple down in the lobby waiting to see you.” 

The door clicks shut once again and Betty turns back to Jughead with a wide smile on her face. “I am exhausted.”

Jughead chuckles and pushed a stray piece of hair out of Betty’s face. “You look beautiful by the way.” 

“I look like an absolute mess, but I’ll take the compliment.” Betty sighs and scoots her chair closer to the head of the bed. Jughead wraps his arm around her shoulders and presses his head against hers. 

“Get some sleep Betts, I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.” She can feel the vibration of voice and decides right then and there that she’s the luckiest girl on the planet.


End file.
